


The Black Pearl

by gillie



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Captain Swan Secret Santa 2015, F/M, Gen, gutterflower secret santa 2015, s4b
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 11:46:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5664952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gillie/pseuds/gillie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This fic exists in a canon-divergent AU world, post Shattered Sight--Killian has his heart back, Rumple has been banished by Belle from Storybrooke, but Zelena (still disguised as Marian) and Robin never went over the town line because she has other plans...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [queenmabsrevenge (masqueofanarchy)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=queenmabsrevenge+%28masqueofanarchy%29).



> This was written with much love as my gift for Captain Swan Secret Santa/Gutterflower CS Secret Santa gifties Queen Mab'S Revenge and On the Nightshift. I had delusions of doing a one-shot, but my muse had something else up her sleeve. 
> 
> Kudos are love--it means the world to me knowing people are reading and enjoying my work, which in turn, motivates me to keep writing!

“Davy, me boy. I fear my time has finally come. The witch won’t stand for stalling much longer. You need to take mum’s gem and go to the sheriff. She’ll know what to do. Never forget I love you. Now go!”

The boy carefully climbed out of the back window of the small fisherman’s cottage, black pearl clasped tightly in his fist. But not before he heard their sole door burst open. He dropped to the ground just under the still-open window. He could just make out a musical feminine laugh. Then his father exclaimed loudly (perhaps for him to hear?) “Come now, lass. Let’s be honest with each other. We both know you’re not Locksley’s wife.” An answering, “Oh, well done! Let’s keep up that honesty, shall we? It will be so much easier for everyone involved. Where’s the pearl, Jones?” With that, Davy remembered himself and ran. 

\---

Emma was silently cursing the pile of reports that had piled up during Ingrid’s rein of terror over Storybrooke. She still wasn’t sure if neighbors could sue each other for property damage if they were all under the Spell of Shattered Sight. But good lord above, they were trying all the same. And of course, she had to deal with Miss Muffet’s missing spider report (really??) that she’s pretty sure will turn into a murder investigation. For what was probably the millionth time, Emma wondered at what her life had become. She envied Henry’s resiliency, taking all of Storybrooke’s eccentricities in stride. She looked fondly at her son, his nose stuck as always in a book. He was completely absorbed in whatever he was reading, oblivious to her agitation. Emma leaned over her desk to ruffle his hair when she noticed a dark haired boy, maybe a year or two younger than Henry, standing in the shadow of the doorway to her office. 

“Hey kid! You don’t have to be shy. Can I help you with something?” 

The boy swallowed deeply and inched forward. It was obvious he had been crying fairly recently. 

“Hey, I know you!” Henry piped in. “You’re David Jones. Your dad works at the Cannery, right?”

At that, the boy started crying hysterically. Emma walked around her desk and got down on her haunches to put him at ease. He seemed the skittish type, and she recognized fight or flight instincts at war with each other when she saw them.

“Shhhhh, it’s ok, it’s ok. Everything’s going to be ok. Did something happen with your father?”

The boy sniffed loudly and nodded. “My da said the witch was going to kill him. He made me crawl out the back window. An' he told me to bring you this. Da said you'd know what to do. Do you?" He held up the black pearl and swallowed deeply before entrusting it to Emma’s open palm. She could sense the magic within it immediately. It almost felt like an electric shock.

Emma put her hand on the young boy’s shoulder. “David, you did exactly right coming here. Do you see this special badge? It means that it’s my job to help people in trouble. Now I want you to think carefully. Can you tell me anything about this witch? Or about this pearl you just gave me?”

The boy relaxed at her gentle touch. But only just.

"The pearl was my mum's. And Da said for the witch to stop pretending ‘cause she wasn't somebody's wife. Lockey maybe? Locksey? And Da said his time had finally come an' the witch probably already killed him and I want my Da!" the boy wailed before he started sobbing uncontrollably again. Emma and Henry shared a look as she handed off the pearl, before gathering the crying boy into her arms. Without another word, Henry started texting to gather his extended family. 

The boy had calmed enough to sit on the loveseat with Henry, and was eating a cherry Pop Tart when Regina arrived. The women conferred quietly while Henry tried to get the boy interested in his book.

"Are you quite sure he said Locksley?" 

Emma wrapped her arms around herself, glancing again at Henry and his young friend. "Positive. So the bigger question is, if Marian isn't Marian, who the hell is she? And what does she want with this?" 

Regina took the pearl from Emma, its magic giving her the same jolt it had Emma. 

"Whatever it is, it's got one hell of a kick. I've seen a number of magical artifacts in my time. This seems, well, unique."

“Damn, I was hoping you’d know. Belle maybe? We’re stuck without Blue until they figure out how to retrieve the fairies from that awful hat.”

Henry chimed in, “Already texted her. Hook too. She said she’s heading right over and Hook’s grabbing coffee first since this is probably going to be a long night.”

Regina smirked. “You’ve certainly got your pirate well-trained. Does he do any other tricks?”

Emma smacked the older woman’s arm and nodded toward the two boys on the small sofa. “Seriously?” she practically hissed, “ Little pitchers have big ears, Regina.”

At this, the former queen laughed outright. “Have you heard yourself lately, Swan? You’re starting to sound just like your Pollyanna mother. I guess the one-handed wonder isn’t the only one who’s well-trained around here.”

Emma rolled her eyes, relieved to see Belle walk in with a stack of books so she didn’t have to come up with a perfect retort. 

The petite librarian dropped off a pile almost half her height on Emma’s desk. “I grabbed everything that was readily available on magical gemstones. Let’s see if we can identify our mystery pearl. May I?”

Regina raised the pearl for Belle to see before handing it to her. “Careful,” she warned, “it’s got something of a kick to it.”

Belle’s eyes went wide when the pearl was placed in her hand. “You weren’t kidding! Did the boy tell you anything about it?”

Emma looked again at the two boys, whose heads were bowed together over Henry’s book, half a pop tart lying crumpled in its wrapper beside them. 

“Nothing other than it belonged to his mother. I get the impression she’s dead. Or at least gone. His father sent him here with it, and David didn’t mention her otherwise. Maybe Mom knows. Henry says David goes to his school and that his dad works at the Cannery. Dad and Leroy are heading to the cottage now to see if he can find any sign of the father.”

“Hey, kid!” Emma called out, with two heads popping up in unison to regard her. “What’s your father’s name? You never said.”

“David Jones, ma’am. Just like me. But most people call us Davy.”

Regina’s eyes went wide. “Davy?” she said incredulously. “Davy Jones? THE Davy Jones? Here? In Storybrooke?”

Emma looked again at the boy before leveling her gaze on Regina. “Why? What’s wrong with Davy Jones being here?”

Behind her, Emma heard a wet splat. Every eye in the small office turned to Killian, who was standing in the doorway as if paralyzed. An entire carry-out tray of black coffee from Granny’s was splattered at his feet. The color completely drained from his face, increasing the contrast with deep blue eyes, now blown wide with some indescribable emotion written there. His voice was barely a hoarse whisper.

“Liam?”


	2. Chapter 2

Everyone in the room froze, all eyes still on Hook. Emma walked over to take his hand, but he flinched at her touch, his eyes still firmly fixed on the boy sitting next to Henry. “Killian?” she asked with no small amount of trepidation in her voice.

His eyes grew wild and he tugged his hand through his hair, leaving it in unruly tufts. “Liam, you’re... here? He’s here? How is he here? Gods above, lad, where’s your father?”

At which point the boy started crying again. Regina threw Killian a dirty look while Emma dragged him outside by his hook.

Once she was sure they were out of earshot, she turned to face him, taking his hand as well.

“OK, buddy. Spill.”

“Four cups of coffee wasn’t enough for you, Swan?”

“I’m serious, Killian. What the hell is going on? After everything we’ve been through, don’t you know you can tell me anything?” He briefly met her eyes before turning from Emma to regard the slow but steady stream of traffic traversing Main Street, oblivious to yet another drama brewing within the Storybrooke sheriff's station. Emma allowed him his moment of silence, wrapping her arms around his middle. He sighed deeply into her touch. She rested her head against the back of his shoulder with a sigh of her own when she realized he still wasn’t willing to talk to her.

"You’re not the only one who’s in this for the long haul. Please, Killian, I need to know. Who’s that boy to you? Henry said his name is David, not Liam. Why do you think he has your brother’s name?”

Hook’s voice was barely audible. “Because, Swan, he IS my brother.”

Emma’s eyes grew wide, a million questions clamoring for attention in her brain at once.

“What? How....how is that even possible? Your brother was older than you by close to a decade! You told me you buried him at sea after Neverland.”

Killian swallowed hard, still unable to look Emma in the eye. “I had a second brother, a half brother, centuries after the first. A brother who was entirely unknown to me until just before the Queen cast her Dark Curse. I’ve never even spoken with him, but I’ll never forget that face. I still can’t believe my father gave him the same bloody name, as if he was simply replacing a ship’s mouser cat. As if my brother, the best man I have ever known, or will know, could possibly be replaced.”

Emma took his hand again, willing him to see she wasn’t judging him with her next statement.

“You...you never said.”

“Aye, Swan, I never said.” Hook’s voice dripped with a self-loathing Emma had hoped she’d never have to hear from him again. “I thought my father died before the Curse, and assumed the boy had perished along with the rest of the good citizens who weren’t safe within the purview of Cora’s protection spell.”

“But...Killian, why would you think that?”

He finally turned to face her with a self-deprecating grin on his face and false cheer in his voice.

“Because, Swan, I’m guilty of the worst sin imaginable. Do you remember that night on the beanstalk? When I told that giant I was the worst person alive? It wasn’t an idle boast, love. When Killian Jones finally lies dead in the ground because even the sea won’t want me in the end, be sure my epitaph includes ‘He loved. He lost. Oh, and he committed patricide.’ So many times you’ve called me a hero, and I’ve tried so hard to live up to your hopes for me, for us. There’s no question you’ve made me a better man by reminding me of who I was and whom I can be again, but I’ve surely purchased myself a seat at the High Table in Hell with that single, unfathomable act of violence upon the man who gave me his name.”

Emma’s eyes shone with shared emotion. She nodded for him to continue because she could feel there was more he needed to get out of his system, possibly for the first time ever. 

“When I found my father again, it was literal centuries after he left me and Liam to die on that rat infested ship. I had assumed time had done its work and he had long-since passed, but there he was, hearty and hale, not looking a day older than when he left us behind. He was working in a tavern. I almost walked back out again. He begged my forgiveness and I reluctantly gave it. He told me of his love and loss, and I could see he was a better man for it.” Emma smiled at this.

"We wept together over the loss of my older brother. I admitted to him there were those who wanted him dead, and I agreed to help him escape to another realm. That’s when he told me I was the elder brother now. I’m certain you can understand both my hurt and joy in that moment. I swallowed my shock as best I could. I was determined to help them both. How could I not? He was my father, Swan! But when I found out what he named the boy... I killed my long-absent father in a blind fit of rage. I left that boy an orphan. And after, well, I let myself forget. I made myself forget. Except you can never. Ever. Forget.” Killian swiped at his eyes and nose with the back of his sleeve, looking in that moment much like the unexpected sibling sitting in Emma’s office. He sniffed once, swallowing away the tears to which he felt he had no right. 

“Gods above, Swan, how can they be here? “

“I can answer at least part of that.”

Both heads whipped around in unison to face Regina. Neither Emma nor Killian had heard her join them outside. The woman raised her hands in a calming gesture, trying to diffuse the tension.

“Now, I don’t know how they ended up in Storybrooke. That certainly wasn’t my doing. I thought they were safely left behind in our land where they couldn’t hurt anybody. But surely it’s obvious why they’re not dead?”

Killian stared at Regina like she had grown a second head.

“You’re Captain Hook! Scourge of the Seven Seas! Pirate...person! How could you of all people not know you can’t just kill Davy Jones without a magical sword?”

Killian’s subsequent laugh held no mirth. “Begging your pardon, Majesty, but you’re surely mistaken. Davy Jones is but a seafaring myth told to frighten cabin boys still wet behind the ears. He’s surely no kin to me, and certainly not my father. However Brennan Jones? Was naught but a thief, a cheat at dice, and a man who apparently valued his own hide and a second rate rowboat over his own flesh and blood. If my dear father borrowed that cursed name, he was having a laugh at our expense.”

Regina’s jaw dropped. “You must be joking. Are you saying you seriously didn’t know your father is THE Davy Jones? Oh please, Captain,” she laughed, “You couldn’t kill him if you tried. Which, apparently you did.”

Killian drew himself up to his full height and brought himself within a hair’s breadth of Regina’s nose. His voice dropped dangerously low, carrying the promise of violence. “And just why do you think THAT was, Majesty?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa guys!” Emma gaped at the two of them, Hook still quietly seething with an animosity she hadn’t seen leveled at her friend in quite some time. “Killian, Regina, enough! None of this is helping that little boy in there. He has to be our first priority right now. That, and the black pearl. And whatever new witch is masquerading as Robin’s dead wife.”

Killian tore his gaze from the queen and ducked his head in acknowledgement of Emma’s words. “You’re right, Swan. I forgot myself.”

“I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, but we’ve got to fix this first. Killian, do you think you can handle being objective in there? I won’t make you face your little brother if you’re not ready.”

“He’d probably prefer younger brother. He may look younger than Henry, but I daresay he’s technically older than you.”

“True. But he still thinks he’s a little boy, and all he wants right now is his father. Can you help me help him?”

Before Killian could answer, Belle came running outside. 

“Um, guys, you need to get in here now. The pearl is starting to glow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're now caught up to what I have posted on Tumblr. Chapter 3 is in the works, but it's tricky. I knew the beginning, I knew the end, but middles are hella hard. Kudos are love--and they'll keep me writing, so if you want more, just let me know!


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